The Stationary Point
by Rirren
Summary: Kevin has a crush on Sam. Sam thinks this is funny. It's not so funny when he develops one himself. Sevin. Sam/Kevin. Contains hairbrushing.


Thank you balder12 for doing such a great job betaing and helping make this fic so much better!

* * *

Kevin saved Sam.

Not literally. But Kevin had been there for Sam when his world was crumbling around him. When he'd been close to losing it, Kevin's presence had stopped him from stepping over the edge.

Sam hadn't saved Kevin.

When Crowley took Kevin, and Dean and Cas disappeared (maybe gone forever, maybe dead), Sam had run away. He'd folded in on himself and pretended he was already dead. He'd switched off his phones and cut himself off from everything that reminded him of what he'd lost.

It was two months before he'd gotten up the courage to see what the outside world had been up to while he was gone. Well, more like he'd wanted to leave drunken messages on Dean's voicemail, just to hear his voice again.

But he hadn't done that. When he'd switched on his cell there were seven messages waiting. All from the same number: Kevin Tran. Hearing Kevin's angry-scared messages had woken him up, reminded him that other people existed, that it wasn't just him and his misery. And it had been hard, so hard, to pull himself out of the hole he'd hidden himself away in, but he'd done it. Because someone needed him.

* * *

"So you finally listened to my messages."

Kevin stood in front of Sam in the motel room, super soaker held up in front of him.

"Yeah, I—" Sam paused and pushed his soaked hair out of his face. "Uh, have you got a towel or something? This kinda stings."

Kevin stared at Sam for a second. Sam stared back and was suddenly struck by the random thought that Kevin had cut his hair.

"Yeah," said Kevin slowly, and he let the super soaker drop. "Just let me get it." He walked off to the bathroom and came back with a damp face cloth.

"Thanks," said Sam after he finished wiping his face. He cleared his throat. This was the hard part. "Kevin, I shouldn't have left you. After … after the fight I just—imploded … I wasn't thinking of anyone else." Kevin folded his arms and said nothing. "I'm sorry," Sam finished.

Kevin let out a breath and then sat down at the motel table. "That's something, I guess."

"So … how have you been?" asked Sam, sitting down across from him.

Kevin shrugged. "Okay. I've been on the move mostly. I checked on my mom and my girlfriend after I escaped Crowley. They were both fine. But I didn't go back. It's not safe, is it?" he said, looking up at Sam.

"It … probably isn't," said Sam, trying to be gentle. "Crowley will still be looking for you."

Kevin nodded, looking like he'd expected that answer. "So, what are you doing?"

"Dean and Cas are gone." Sam's voice was dull. "The family business … well, nothing says family quite like the whole family being dead … I don't know what's happened to them but I need to—I need to know for sure."

"All right." Kevin drummed his fingers against the table. "So, how're we gonna do that?"

Sam looked up. "We?"

Kevin raised his eyebrows, a resigned smile on his face. "I'll help. What else am I gonna do?"

* * *

So Kevin joined Sam.

All Sam had been doing these last two months was driving aimlessly, like he was trying to drive his loss out of his system, but having someone else with him now gave him focus. He had someone to hold himself accountable to, someone he didn't want to let down. At first he struggled to get used to working with a partner that wasn't Dean, but Kevin was more patient with Sam than he had any reason to be. Sometimes Sam wondered if helping him had given Kevin a purpose as well, if they were both holding each other together.

Sam researched and Kevin translated, and over the weeks they fell into an easy rhythm. Except for one thing.

* * *

Sam stepped out of the bathroom, holding the towel around his waist. Kevin looked over and made a startled sound before looking away quickly, his cheeks flushing lightly. Right, that was why Sam should have brought his clothes into the bathroom. Muttering apologies, Sam strode over to the bed and grabbed his duffle, not even bothering to find his clothes, just bringing the whole thing into the bathroom and shutting the door after him.

He dressed and dried his hair with a towel, unable to keep a little smile off his face. It was cute. It had become increasingly obvious that Kevin had a crush on him. Of course, nothing was going to happen but it was still nice to know that someone found him attractive, even when he was such a fucked-up mess.

But anyway. No more walking around with just a towel on. The kid might have a heart attack next time. Sam should probably have learned this lesson weeks ago.

"I got you bagels," said Kevin when Sam came out of the bathroom, able to look Sam in the eyes now.

"Thanks." Sam grabbed a bagel and leaned over to see what Kevin was translating, putting his hand on Kevin's shoulder. "You started already? Any further ahead?"

"Um, it's—I'm maybe halfway through," said Kevin, voice cracking. Sam stepped back and sat down across the table from him.

"We really need to find out more about Purgatory," Sam muttered, picking up poppy seeds from the paper bag with a wet finger and sucking them into his mouth. "But at least we can work out if they're in Hell with this ritual, right?"

Kevin's eyes snapped up. He seemed to be breathing a little fast. Sam frowned at him. "Yeah! Yeah, it should work."

"Okay," said Sam, and he stood up and stretched, his shirt riding up as he pulled his arms over his head. "I'm gonna go get some newspapers, look for some cases. You need anything?"

Kevin's eyes darted back to the tablet. "Caffeine," he mumbled.

"Kevin," Sam sighed. "You can't keep—Fine, but I'm getting you some fruit and a smoothie as well. You need vitamins."

He grabbed another bagel and walked out of the motel room, leaving Kevin to his work on the demon tablet.

* * *

"You're on watch. You see anything, _anything_ weird, you shoot it, okay?"

"Sam, I know. You told me this already."

"Right," said Sam. He knew he was fussing but Kevin was just a kid and even though this was the easiest hunt Sam had been able to find, it was still his first one.

"I get that you're … worried about me." Kevin fiddled with the gun. "But I need to learn this stuff. What if Crowley comes after me again?"

Sam's throat closed up unexpectedly, reminded of how he had left Kevin with Crowley, hadn't even tried to look for him. "I'm not gonna let him get you, okay?"

Kevin looked up. "Yeah, I know."

Sam grabbed the shovel and stabbed it into the ground. Kevin turned on the flashlight, illuminating the tiny corner of the graveyard they were working in. Sam worked steadily on his own, although Kevin insisted on doing some of the digging as well. There was no sign of the ghost the whole time. Sam had been right about this being an easy hunt. It was an old lady who'd died and she hadn't really hurt anyone, but she was scaring the residents at the nursing home so she had to go.

Three hours later Sam had dug down to the coffin and was prying it open with a crowbar. He pulled himself out and handed Kevin the salt and the accelerant. He stood to the side and bent over, rubbing his sweaty face, crowbar held loosely in one hand. He got his breath back and then pulled out his lighter and straightened up, ready to finish the job.

His heart stuttered in his chest when he saw the translucent form of the old lady (_why hadn't he been watching?_) standing right behind Kevin. Sam yelled and reached out, grabbing Kevin by the arm and throwing the lighter into the grave at the same time. He pulled Kevin in towards him and threw them away from the sudden flames, shielding Kevin with his body as they rolled over the grass.

There was an unearthly shriek as the ghost caught fire and Sam looked away, scrunching his eyes at the flash as it expired. He lay still on top of Kevin as his heart slowed to a more normal rate, his large body covering Kevin's smaller one, forearms held on either side of Kevin's head, protecting him completely. Sam took a deep breath and then raised his head.

"You okay?"

Kevin just stared back, eyes wide.

"Wait, you're not hurt, are you?" Sam pushed himself up a little further, looked over Kevin's body and then sat up, patting Kevin down as he tried to feel for any injuries.

Something like a squeak came out of Kevin's lips. Sam's eyes darted up and then, taking in Kevin's steadily reddening face, he slowly realized just what was happening here. Sam was straddling Kevin, and _feeling him up_.

Sam jumped up. "Shit! Shit—I mean, sorry, I just—fuck—" He grabbed the crowbar and shovel then tucked the salt and accelerant under his arm, desperate for something to do. "Good—good job, Kevin," he said, like an idiot, and then turned around and walked to the Impala, face burning.

* * *

Kevin was measuring out the different powders, tipping each gently into the gold bowl. Sam watched intently, staring at Kevin's tiny frown of concentration. This could be it. If Cas and Dean were in Hell it would be … difficult to retrieve them, but at least they'd know where to start.

"Sam!" Sam startled at Kevin's voice. "Crushed bone of a virgin."

Kevin was holding out his hand, eyebrows raised in expectation. Sam nodded quickly and handed it over, trying to focus on what they were doing.

Kevin tipped in the crushed bone and shook the bowl, before dribbling in sticky demon blood and stirring it all with a silver spoon. "Right, now hair of the damned."

That was Dean's hair. Sam had spent ages searching through Dean's duffle to find that. He hadn't found anything of Cas's, which wasn't surprising. But where Dean was, Cas would be, or so Sam was banking on.

Sam tipped out the hair onto his palm, scrunched his hand around it, and then let it fall into the bowl. Kevin lit a match and dropped it in. The whole mixture ignited suddenly, a flame shooting up to almost touch the ceiling. Sam stepped back and shielded his eyes partially, keeping an eye on the flames. They died down a few seconds later, leaving only twisting smoke.

"Kev?" Sam's heart was sinking fast.

"Yeah, it didn't turn green … Sam, I'm sorry."

Sam grabbed the edge of the table, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white, and bowed his head.

"Hey, this is a good thing though. They're not in Hell, and now—"

"—and now we've wasted a whole month chasing up a dead end," Sam finished. "Another month I've left them wherever they are. And another time I've—"

His voice cut off, but he finished the sentence in his head: _Another time I've failed Dean_. He couldn't help comparing it to when Dean had gone to Hell and Sam had spent a whole four months fruitlessly trying to get Dean out of there before someone else stepped in and did his job. Except now there was no angel to save Dean. It was only Sam who could do this and he didn't have the best track record at saving his brother.

Kevin was quiet behind him. He laid his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam stood still for a second, shaking, before he turned around suddenly and grabbed Kevin in a tight hug. Kevin raised his arms hesitantly and then put them around Sam. Sam held him back, feeling dizzy; he was holding onto the only stationary point in his universe, the only person he had left in his life.

One word kept reverberating through his head: _Kevin, Kevin, Kevin_.

And that was when Sam realized his feelings towards Kevin weren't exactly platonic.

* * *

That crush wasn't so funny anymore.

Not now that it was _Sam_ staring at Kevin out of the corner of his eyes, _Sam_ blushing when he accidentally said a double-entendre, _Sam_ thinking about Kevin when he shouldn't be—in bed, in the shower. Sam was perving on Kevin, a 17 year old _kid_, like a dirty old man.

They should really get two rooms. Sam hadn't noticed before how stifling sharing the same motel room was, how he couldn't get any time on his own, how he had to look at and talk to Kevin _all the time_. But he couldn't do anything. He had to keep acting normally.

It was hell. And maybe Kevin already knew something was up. Sam could tell from the glances they kept exchanging. He kept it unspoken, this thing between them. He couldn't—he _had_ to get rid of these feelings; he couldn't allow himself to take advantage of Kevin.

Two weeks later and Sam was collapsed on the couch, iPad in his hands, poring over an electronic copy of one of Bobby's old books. Kevin was working on the tablet, as always, but he was strangely agitated today. He kept fidgeting, tapping his feet and glancing over at Sam every now and then.

"Hey, uh, Sam," Kevin spoke up.

Sam hummed in question, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"I got you something," said Kevin.

Sam looked up finally. Kevin was holding a cheap-looking bright blue hairbrush in his hand. Sam stared at it blankly for a few seconds. "A … hairbrush? Is this—is something wrong with my hair?" He ran his fingers through it self-consciously. Had Kevin been staring at him today because his hair was a bird's nest?

"No, your hair's—your hair's really … nice," said Kevin, and his face colored before he said in a rush. "I just noticed you don't have one."

"I've never had a hairbrush," said Sam, still stunned Kevin had gotten him a present. "I just use my fingers."

"I thought it would help you relax." Kevin looked down and fiddled with the brush. "You seem kinda stressed lately."

Sam straightened up a little, suddenly aware of his tense shoulders. Yeah, he had been stressed. Stressed out from looking for Dean and Cas, but more immediately, stressed out by this thing between him and Kevin.

"Thanks, Kev," said Sam when Kevin walked over. He reached out his hand for the brush but Kevin held it back.

"Could I—" Kevin's voice came out a little high and he stopped before swallowing. "Could I maybe brush your hair?" If that's okay."

Sam's gaze locked with Kevin's. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, like the universe was holding its breath to see what they would do. Was Kevin really—? He should refuse; he didn't want to give Kevin the wrong impression. But … it wasn't really sexual, was it? Friends brushed each other's hair all the time.

"Yeah, okay…" he breathed.

Kevin sat up on his knees next to Sam. "You should turn around," he said, voice shaking slightly.

Sam did so and Kevin got in close, knees touching either side of Sam's hips. Sam stiffened his spine, suddenly regretting this, and then Kevin's fingers touched his hair before running the hairbrush through, making Sam shiver as what felt like an electric current went through his body.

Kevin brushed through in long, steady strokes, sometimes holding a chunk and teasing out a particularly stubborn tangle with his fingers. Soon he wasn't even detangling anything, just pulling the brush smoothly through Sam's hair from forehead to neck, applying a little pressure so that the soft bristles massaged Sam's scalp. Sam closed his eyes, lost in the rhythmic 'sshh' of the brush and the sensations.

The brush pulled through Sam's hair on the side and Sam tilted his head, before his spine suddenly relaxed and he leaned back, head resting on Kevin's shoulder and back against Kevin's chest. Kevin brushed through twice before abandoning the hairbrush and sliding his fingers through Sam's hair, massaging the scalp in little circles with the pads of his fingers, making Sam let out a little hum of contentment. Sam should really stop this now, but it felt so good and couldn't he just let himself enjoy this, just this once?

Kevin's hand drifted down to Sam's neck and Sam opened his eyes, looking back. Kevin's eyes were so dark Sam couldn't tell where the irises ended and where the pupils began. Sam didn't move but Kevin leaned forward and brushed his lips gently against Sam's before moving into a soft kiss. Sam shut his eyes and let himself be kissed before turning around and kissing back with more enthusiasm, overcome by a wave of affection towards Kevin, this person who had stuck with him despite Sam's betrayal. Kevin's hands curled into Sam's hair, holding on firmly enough that Sam couldn't move his head. He had to submit, only able to move if Kevin let him. It was a completely new experience and unexpectedly arousing.

Kevin murmured Sam's name into his mouth and climbed into his lap, tilting Sam's head so he could kiss down Sam's neck. Sam rested his hand on Kevin's lower back and bit his lip at the feathery light kisses, trying to enjoy the sensations and ignore everything else. But uneasiness was starting to slither down his spine, cold reality settling in, until finally he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Wait, Kevin, wait," he gasped, pushing Kevin away. Kevin's hands ripped at Sam's hair and he fell back, sprawling ungainly on the couch.

"Sam, what? Why'd you stop?" asked Kevin, pushing himself up.

Sam couldn't take Kevin's eyes on him. He stood up and started pacing the floor, running his fingers through his hair frantically.

"I'm stopping this because I'm an adult and you're—you're a kid!" he said, feeling almost hysterical.

"I'm 17!" Kevin shouted in outrage, getting up from the couch.

"That's a kid!" Sam shouted back. "You're underage and I'm the adult and I'm responsible for you. I shouldn't be—"

"I stopped being a kid the second I became a prophet! And we both like each other. You're not taking advantage of me or whatever you're thinking!"

Sam shook his head. "Kevin, you know how much of an age difference there is between us? And this is probably some form of Stockholm syndrome. I'm the only person you've been around for months."

"That's not—I liked you before, you know! Before all this."

"That doesn't make any difference. We still can't do this."

Kevin pleaded with him some more, making arguments about his maturity that grew steadily angrier until finally he stomped away into the bathroom, the only place he could go to get away from Sam, and slammed the door so hard the motel's flimsy walls shook.

Kevin gave Sam the cold shoulder over the next few days, meeting Sam's eyes with a frozen glare, and avoiding talking to Sam unless it was strictly necessary. Sam for his part tried to go back to acting normally, treating Kevin the way he should: as a kid in his charge. It was harder than he thought. He couldn't look at Kevin like that anymore, if he ever had. All he could think about was Kevin's lips kissing him, Kevin's slight but strong body straddling him, Kevin's fingers running through his hair.

Finally, four days later, Kevin sighed and pushed his notes away. "Sam, you know it's not like that," he said. "I'm not a stupid little kid and you're not—I thought we were partners in this, equals."

"I know," said Sam quietly.

"Then can't we do this? I'm gonna be 18 soon anyway, what difference does a few months make?"

Sam looked at the book he'd been reading and then finally laid it on the couch. He didn't know what to do anymore. The simplest answer was that he shouldn't give in, that he should be a responsible adult. But it was more complicated than that and he owed it to Kevin to think about it properly.

"Give me a bit of time," he said.

* * *

Sam gave it a lot of thought. It was pretty much the only thing he thought about over the next week. He worried about whether this was his fault somehow, if he'd done something to make Kevin feel like this. He wondered if he'd ruined Kevin's life even more thoroughly than Kevin's prophet status already had. He tried to look at it from the other side as well, noticing the way Kevin looked at him and smiled at him, and allowing himself to look back. Sam thought about how much happier Kevin seemed with him, and how much happier _he'd_ been.

And finally he made his decision.

* * *

Nothing much changed after that. Except for the make-out sessions.

Kevin loved to climb up on Sam. He'd pull Sam down by the collar to kiss him, loop his arms around Sam's neck and then climb up, legs wrapping around Sam's waist. Sam loved that too. It put their faces at the same height and Sam could kiss Kevin without getting a crick in his neck.

With most of his partners Sam liked to take control, grab them roughly or push them up against a wall. It was different with Kevin. Kevin was so much younger, and while he wasn't exactly innocent Sam still felt protective towards him. He let Kevin set the pace, and actually, he found he enjoyed being the one dominated for a change.

They slept in the same bed most of the time, unless one of them needed some space, and every morning Sam would wake up with Kevin's arm or leg flung over him. Sam thought it was deliberate, at least subconsciously, that Kevin was trying to stake his claim on Sam, keep him from running away. But Sam wasn't going to run away; he didn't want to anymore.

* * *

Kevin kissed Sam languidly, the whole weight of his body resting on Sam. Kevin had kissed like a teenager at first, inexperienced and sloppy, but he'd learned quickly, and now his kisses sent Sam dizzy with want. Sam couldn't help feeling some regret for this, like he'd tainted something pure. He faltered in the kiss at this thought, and pulled away, frowning.

"Sam," Kevin groaned, and he pushed himself up. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I should be with some nice girl my own age, right?" Sam's eyes slid away, unable to deny it. "And you're being all self-hating because you think you're taking that away from me. But I know I can't go back to that now. And I don't care about that hypothetical college girl anymore. Because I've got you."

"Kevin," said Sam lowly.

Kevin ground his hips down against Sam's body and grinned as Sam let out a gasp, arching up towards that pressure.

"Kevin, we've already talked about this—" said Sam, flustered.

"Come ooon," Kevin whined before searching out the pulse in Sam's throat with his mouth.

"You're just gonna have to get very acquainted with your right hand," said Sam, and he laughed at Kevin's groan.

"I'm almost 18 though," Kevin mumbled into Sam's neck, nibbling and kissing the skin. "It wouldn't make any difference, please—?"

Sam turned his head and put his arm in between their bodies to give himself some space, suddenly uncomfortable with the memories this was bringing up. "Don't—don't make me," he said quietly.

Kevin stilled at that and then rolled off of Sam to lie down beside him on the bed. "I'm not gonna make you," he said. And then, "Sorry."

"I know," said Sam and he turned over to face Kevin, fingers rubbing up and down Kevin's arm gently.

Kevin sighed. "But when I turn 18 we can, right?"

Sam nodded. He would keep that promise, but doubt of that future still crept into his mind.

"And I know what you're thinking now, too. But we _will_ still be together then."

Sam looked back at those wide, serious dark eyes and didn't say anything. Kevin surged forward and pressed an almost desperate kiss to Sam's lips. And Sam couldn't help believing him.


End file.
